


the greater good

by wingeddserpent



Series: Misfires [5]
Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Betrayal, Friendship, Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-02
Updated: 2011-12-02
Packaged: 2017-10-26 16:44:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/285571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingeddserpent/pseuds/wingeddserpent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yuffie and Reeve think they understand what betrayal is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the greater good

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt:
> 
> Yuffie/Reeve: Treachery – Something about this ‘hero’ business never felt right.

A week after the world ends, they’re drinking. “Barret -” he says, stops to take a swig of that nasty sort of beer they only make in small towns. “You noticed?”

“I guess?” she half-shrugs, remembers to be grateful no one’s saying anything about her drinking, because she’s not in Wutai where the drinking age is whatever age she chooses to be that day. “My problem is Cid, he still -” she stops, takes a gulp and winds up spluttering all over the place. “At least you saved Marlene and got to sacrifice yourself.”

He snorts, an inelegant sound from an elegant man.

Yuffie sets her glass down hard on the counter, glances at him; he’s bent over like he’s been punched in the gut. Something dark settles in the pit of her stomach and she’s pretty sure it’s not drink. “Hey, Reeve. You ever think that maybe we’re heroes?”

Honestly, she’s not sure who’s more surprised by the question, him or her.

They drink away the sudden discomfort, brush the question away like an apology. It’s easier that way and they’re both cowards. The easy way is the only way.

Silence is easy, comfortable, and it gives them time to drink with only their thoughts and their memories, and what’s the point of sharing, anyway? It doesn’t change anything - she’ll always be the thief with the winsome smile and the brutal weapon; he’ll always be the Shinra dog with a hand at machinery and treachery. It’s something they can both drink to.

Her PHS goes off, and she flicks it open easily. “Hello?”

Tifa sounds unhappy. “Where are you?” she demands, “The party’s starting.”

It makes her falter - honestly, she hadn’t thought anyone would notice or care, would be relieved - and Reeve takes the phone smoothly, listens for a moment to Tifa talking.

“We’ll be right there,” he says after a moment.

He hands her phone back, says only, “They want us there. To celebrate.”

* * *

Reeve doesn’t have friends. Perhaps he did, a long time ago, but now that he has chosen this path, he has none. It’s one of the sacrifices he has made for his work - calling in favors, guilt-tripping, cancelling get-togethers when work comes up, that sort of thing - and he regrets it, but, he figures, someone has to do it.

The WRO is taking shape nicely, order coming out of the ruins of what Shinra could have been (the fact Rufus is funding the organization is one of the many secrets Reeve finds himself keeping).

Yuffie waltzes into his office, shoes loud on the tile. “I was wondering where you’d holed up,” she says, chews on the end of an unlit cigarette that he recognizes as Cid’s brand, “So, Reeve, I’ve got those files you asked for,” and she sprawls across the chair, feet propped on his desk.

He has to hide a smile; both of them know she hates smoking. The file gets thrown on his desk and he makes a show of checking it over, even though Yuffie rarely makes mistakes.

That’s something he can envy, in some respects.

Of course, the mistakes she does make are usually disastrous and he finds himself surprised that she’s lived to the age of seventeen at all.

Her grin grows crooked and she says, softly, “Heard about your fight with Barret.”

It’s not said unkindly, but he flinches all the same, shuts the file so quickly he might have given himself a paper cut. He does not look at her, looks instead at another file on his desk, and finds himself startled when her fingers brush his wrist. “Hey,” she says, voice low, “Don’t worry about it.”

Reeve has to swallow - of course he’s worried about it, upset that Barret finally decided being around Reeve was too much effort ( _no better than Shinra_ , he’d said) - but he says nothing.

A pause follows, and she chews on the end of her cigarette thoughtfully; he inspects his fingernails.

“Yuffie - do you think -?”

She cuts him off by tightening her grip on him. “I get it, Reeve. Maybe he never will. There’s nothing you can do about it, in any case.”

And he shakes his head, because while it’s nice to listen to her, he’s not sure she’s right.

Do the ends justify the means? Is it right to surrender friends and family for the greater good? Reeve sighs, because he doesn’t have the answer, and while Yuffie thinks she does, he isn’t sure she’s right at all. He reaches out, puts a hand over hers. “Thank you.”

She looks surprised but grins around the cigarette he has a feeling will never be lit. Yuffie leans away from him, tugging out of his grip, and props her feet up on his desk again.

“Right, well. That’s all I had. Be back soon with the info on that Costa Del Sol perv,” she stands in a single fluid motion, and is well on her way to the exit when she says, “See ya later, Reeve. Oh, and don’t look so down. It’ll come out okay.”

* * *

Yuffie hangs up her phone, glares down at it while Reeve watches her, his fingers brush her wrist. “You and your dad not getting along?” he asks her, and she pulls her lips back, shows off all her teeth in the caricature of a smile.

“There’s two words for traitor in Wutai,” she tells him, yanks her hand away from his, “One means traitor of the birth land - the other means traitor of the blood.”

And she falls silent, stares off into the distance, can’t help but remember - except she can’t. Can’t can’t can’t remember any of that, can’t think about it, still can’t believe Godo brought it up. (Shouldn’t she call him father? Shouldn’t she? No - no - no. He gave that title up a long time ago). Reeve reaches for her again and she lets him. His fingers are warm and soft on her forearm, with crisscrossing scars she thinks must be from his _tinkering_ , and she reaches, grabs his hand. There’s a moment of silence, then she pulls his hand up and brushes her lips over his fingertips.

“Yuffie,” he says, voice calm even though his eyes have widened.

It nearly makes her laugh. “Stop being a baby,” she says, takes a finger into her mouth to the first knuckle.

He pulls back sharply and she lets him go. Another pause, while he wipes his hand off on his coat, and then he says, “Yuffie, what happened?” there’s a beat of silence, “Yuffie.”

“There’s no word for betraying your friends. No concept of it,” she tells him, makes a point to look at a spot over his head.

Reeve flinches at that, his face suddenly going hard, and she wants to laugh at him, but she makes this weird little sound in the back of her throat, but swallows it, but Reeve hears it anyway, reaches out for her.

With a growl, she avoids him, looks at his office. Rage fills everything - she wants to destroy it, smash him into tiny shards of politics, and break herself with it all. She stands, sharp and fast, and he rises with her, grasps at her shoulders and she thinks hard about throwing him off. “What happened?” he asks her again, like talking about it will serve anything besides his curiosity.

And she makes the mistake of looking at him, at the concern there, concern for her, and she sags into his touch, even as she wants to lash out at him and life.

“My mother was a traitor. Of birth land and blood,” she tells him, voice harsh because it doesn’t matter, doesn’t fucking matter, “She sold secrets to Shinra during the War. My father executed her. I watched.”

He doesn’t say anything but he doesn’t have to. His eyes are wide; his grip loosens just a little. Yuffie should take the opportunity to jerk away, but she doesn’t.

“Apparently because I have tainted blood from her, people are _concerned_ about my being the sole heir. So, in order to succeed Godo I’ll have to be married to someone from a pure bloodline. It’s political bullshit - they realize there’s no chance of Godo getting a son, but like hell they’ll let a girl rule by herself,” she bares her teeth again.

Reeve tries to say something, but she cuts him off, “I’ll see you later, Reeve.”

* * *

AVALANCHE doesn’t get together enough for Tifa’s tastes and far too often for Reeve’s. The thrum of conversation wells all around him and he feels - out of place, wishes he could have sent Cait Sith instead - and people are still relieved Vincent’s back. Frankly, he is too, but if he slips out now, he’ll seem like the most callous sort of prick.  Not that, he thinks to himself, they don’t all think that about him anyway.

He sips at his drink and smiles at Tifa as she whisks past him to go speak with Shelke. When she turns her back, he sighs, glances over at where Barret and Cid and Yuffie are all drinking far too much, and thinks about joining them but doesn’t.

Things between him and Barret are still rocky, and his relationship with Cid is turbulent at best. The only person he tends to see regularly is Yuffie - but guessing Yuffie’s mood from one day to the next is like trying to flip a coin to decide the weather. After getting her next drink, she seats herself beside him, grin wider than he’s seen it in a long time. “You know,” she says too loud, “I’ve never known a not-ninja to be so good at hiding in a room of people.”

She looks at him suspiciously. “Are you a ninja?”

It nearly makes him laugh, but he reaches out instead to keep her from sloshing her drink everywhere - she eyes him like she thinks he’s about to make off with her drink.

“No,” he tells her seriously and she lets go of her glass.

He sets it on the counter, but she’s already forgotten about it. However, he’s got a feeling she’s not as drunk as she’s pretending to be - there’s a lot of things Yuffie isn’t, careless is one of them. That, and she’s sitting with perfect balance on the stool and he knows from experience - when she’s drunk far far far too much, sitting becomes a chore for her. “Even Barret doesn’t hate you,” she says suddenly, voice a bit quieter.

It’s not surprising that all Yuffie ever seems to want to talk about are the things he _doesn’t_ want to talk about. Reeve represses the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose till he bleeds.

“Yuffie - I know,” Reeve says, “He’s upset with me and he’s got a right to that. In a way, he does have a point. I’m more concerned with the work of the WRO than I am with the people I call ‘friend’. He doesn’t hate me - he’s hurt by the life I’ve chosen.”

The words sound hollow and she looks at him sharply, eyes glinting.

“Well, I’m not hurt,” she says, almost too soft to hear, leaning in so close that he can feel her warmth.

Her lips brush his cheek and then the stool clatters to the floor and she staggers off, like she’s drunk, and Reeve downs the rest of her drink.

* * *

He calls her after three days of not hearing from her. It almost makes her laugh, because she’d taken out the tracking device on her phone and she knows it has to be driving him crazy. “Yuffie,” he says and she pretends not to hear the disapproval in his voice.

“Hey,” she says, tilts her face up to the sky, and tells him, off-handedly, “I think it’s going to rain.”

There’s a pause and then he blows out a sigh. She shifts so she’s seated more comfortably on the ruined fence, and idly finds herself wondering what happened to the people who used to live here. Probably had something to do with the Reactor exploding, or maybe the Reactor stole the life from their farm altogether. Not that it matters to her, at any rate. Mostly, she’s just thankful for something to lean against.

“Yuffie,” he says again and this time she sighs.

She shuts her eyes, face turned toward the sky, and she tells him, “I was out looking for Mako. For Shelke. You know.”

It’s an admission she doesn’t want to make - her? Caring? Never - but she does it anyway, because he won’t leave her alone until she does, and that’s what she wants, isn’t it? To be alone? She bares her teeth but doesn’t open her eyes, tries not to think of Shelke’s shaking and convulsing, tries not to think of the ashen pallor to her face.

“Yuffie -” he pauses, “We found some in Nibelheim two days ago. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I thought -”

He doesn’t finish the sentence; he doesn’t have to. _I thought you didn’t care_.

“Gotcha. Well, that’s cool. I don’t have to be the hero. You know. That whole, heroism thing. I only have so much I can do before I make quota,” her voice sounds off to her own ears and she’s not sure what to do about it.

There’s another pause and then Reeve says, “Shelke is going to be fine, Yuffie.”

“Right,” Yuffie says, chirpily, leaps off the fence, “What else would she be? I mean, she can’t die. She’s too much of a cold-hearted lizard to die. It’s like - like growing her tail back. Except she needs Mako. And you know - her tail’s pretty damn sexy so I’d be - something - if she lost her tail.”

“Yuffie - I know she would grateful for your - heroism,” he says, slowly.

It makes her laugh.

“No, no she wouldn’t be. She doesn’t want my help and I’m not a hero,” it comes out fast and bitter and she can imagine Reeve flinching with it, “Besides - she already had a hero, remember? Shalua did more for Shelke than anyone could ever -”

And Yuffie has to stop, blinks up furiously at the clouds. “We’re not heroes, Reeve.”

“We’re not heroes, Reeve. Because we care too much about the people to care about persons, and we’re fucking dumbasses but someone fucking has to be.”

“Yuffie,” Reeve says, voice pained, “Are you all right?”

There he went and missed the entire fucking point. “Yeah. Peachy. See you in a few days.”

Then she hangs up.

* * *

He wakes because there’s someone in his bed. “Morning,” Yuffie says too cheerfully.

His heart’s pounding in his chest and he looks at her; it’s still dark, he realizes, morning far away. She shifts, so that her thigh is pressed against the curve of his chest, and he pulls away, can see her teeth glint white in the darkness. “Yuffie,” he tries, mouth still slack from want of sleep. “What are you doing here?”

“Didn’t realize you slept naked,” she says with a laugh, “I approve.”

Reeve can’t help the flush and he pulls the sheets up over himself. Then he sits up and asks, “What do you need?”

“You ever wonder whether or not the sacrifice was worth it?” she asks him.

His breath gets caught uncomfortably in his chest. What sort of question is that? He knows what she means, what’s she’s talking about, but how can she expect an answer to that?

As it turns out, she doesn’t give him time to answer. “You regret it, don’t you?”

It’s not a question and all he can do is shut his eyes and say, “Yes,” he pauses, “I wish I had found another way.”

“Do you think there was another way?”

“No.”

Yuffie hops off his bed, stands too-close to his window, and he’s half out of bed before she says, “I’m quitting WRO. It’s time for me to head home.”

And then she vaults out the window and closes it behind her a moment later. Reeve takes a deep breath and passes a hand over his face. His hand is shaking. Does he have regrets? Yes. Certainly. There have been many things he’s given up over the course of his life trying to pursue the lofty _greater good_ , and in doing so, he has done many wrongs to the people who care about him. To himself.

Reeve’s got no illusions about what he’s done, the price he’s paid. And while he wishes he could find another way - a way that would allow him to help people without using or hurting his friends, but he doesn’t think it’s a realistic goal.

For all that he’s an idealist, a _tinkerer_ , there are just some things that aren’t possible.

And then he stops - pulls himself out of the pity pot and wonders. Is there another way?

* * *

Barret frowns down at his PHS, then flips it open, listens to his voice mail.

 _You have one new message._

“Barret, this is Reeve. I’m sorry. How about I take you and Marlene out for dinner?”


End file.
